Chapter 20 #2
I gulped. Opened my mouth. Closed it again. My mind reeled as I tried to figure out what he was trying to ask me, what it meant, how I should answer. In the end, all I could say was the truth. “Yes.”
His thumb stroked my cheek again. “Good,” he said. “Trust this: When I want you to touch me, I will let you know.”
This wasn’t how sex had ever gone for me.
In the past, it had always been more give than take.
I always had to make up for my deficiencies.
Give and give and give, and only ask for a little in return.
That was the only way to keep a man interested, to make up for the fact that I could never offer him what he truly wanted.
But Gideon wasn’t letting me give. He was telling me he wanted me to take. And take. And take.
I didn’t know how to do that.
He shifted his leg, and my feet fell back to the ground. I hated the loss of pressure against my core. Hated the distance between us. Even still, a sick kind of relief ghosted through me. Maybe if we stopped, I wouldn’t have to face the crashing wave, the unbearable weight of my desire for him.
But we weren’t stopping.
Gideon tangled his fingers in mine and tugged me to the nearest soft surface—one of the two couches in the living room.
With a soft kiss on my lips, he lowered me down onto it, tugged my ass to the edge, then pushed my dress up so it bunched over my stomach.
I felt his knuckles against my skin as he hooked his fingers into my underwear, and then the cold air kissing my damp, swollen flesh.
Gideon’s hands pressed against my knees, spreading them wide.
He exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes trained on the apex of my thighs.
“I’m going to eat your cunt until you scream,” he informed me.
“Oh,” I said, mind utterly blank. Then he stripped off his suit jacket and slowly, methodically, rolled up his sleeves.
All the while, he kneeled on the floor between my spread knees.
I felt exposed and aroused and a little ashamed.
When he swept his hands up my thighs and ran his thumbs over the moisture gathered between my lower lips, a full-body shudder went through me.
Then his face was there, and he was licking.
Sucking. Devouring. His fingers sank into the fleshy curves over my hips, thumbs pressing into the crook of my thighs to hold my legs wide.
His shoulders pressed against my inner thighs, and that stubble scraped exactly where I’d wanted it to on our wedding night.
But it was the noises Gideon made that sent me over the edge.
When he tasted me, he groaned like I was the most delicious treat he’d ever had.
When I couldn’t help myself from tangling my fingers in his hair, he grunted, his whole body bowing toward me like all he wanted me to do was grab his head and use him to get myself off.
His eyes flicked up when I loosened my grip on his hair, and I could tell in an instant that he was enjoying himself.
Truly enjoying himself. This wasn’t a chore that he was doing in order to get me to go down on him after.
It wasn’t something he endured in order to make things “fair” between us, or to use as a bargaining chip later when he wanted to push me past my limits.
This was something he wanted. His face between my legs. Me, out of my mind.
I came, unable to hold back the cry that slipped through my lips.
My hand scrabbled at the edge of the sofa while my back arched off the cushions, the only thing tethering me to the earth being his hands and mouth.
When the tension went out of me, Gideon pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, then straightened.
He used a palm to wipe his mouth, then let out a satisfied exhale, his eyes fluttering shut as if he wanted to savor the last taste of me on his tongue.
I watched him, chest heaving with every breath, hair clinging to the back of the sofa as I reclined, twitching.
The orgasm had been like a perfect appetizer.
I was ready for the main course—but history had taught me that there was no main course.
This was all I was going to get. I arranged my face into a pleased smile to let him know that it had been great.
Gideon opened his eyes. Met mine. Smiled like he could see right through my bullshit. “Take off your clothes,” he commanded in a quiet, sure voice. “You need another one.”
I blinked at him, confused. Gideon stood, took my hands, and hauled me to my feet. He took my face in his hands and kissed me, then with his lips moving against mine, he repeated, “Take off your clothes, Sadie.”
All of a sudden, all the desire that I’d tried to stifle came rushing to the surface.
I flushed and knew my cheeks were bright red.
And I took off my clothes. My dress dropped to my feet a moment before my bra landed on top of the crumpled fabric.
Gideon’s hands swept over my waist, and he pulled me down on top of him so I straddled him on the couch.
I was entirely naked, and he was fully clothed.
I reached for the buttons of his shirt, but Gideon stilled my hand, grimacing. “Not—not yet.”
His scars. I’d forgotten. I could see some of them on his neck and the side of his head, but I’d spent so long looking at him that I no longer really saw them.
They were just part of who he was, part of the man who turned me inside out.
But he was self-conscious, and he didn’t want me to see his body.
I couldn’t help the sting of it; I’d bared myself to him—literally—and told him all my dirty little secrets. He evidently didn’t feel comfortable enough to do the same.
But with a deep breath, I let go of that feeling and moved my hand away from his shirt buttons.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I just—not tonight.” His hands swept up my sides and back down again, learning the shape of me. “Not when you’re here, like this.”
“This all seems very one-sided,” I quipped, arching a brow as I tried to use humor to hide my disappointment.
Gideon hummed, sliding one hand between my legs and making me gasp. “It’s not one-sided,” he said in a low voice. “Believe me, I’m getting just as much out of this as you are.”
My breaths were coming faster now, hips rolling as he used his fingers to make sparks ignite between my legs. “I find that hard to believe,” I answered.
He spread his legs wider, pushing my knees apart.
It was just past the point of comfort, and it made his touch feel all the more intense.
I clung to his shoulders and leaned my forehead against his, fighting for every breath.
Gideon’s free hand slid up my side and covered my breast. He squeezed it as he stroked me, then rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I shuddered.
“I could watch you like this for hours,” Gideon told me in a low rumble. “So fucking beautiful, Sadie. I can’t believe you’re mine.” The pressure of his hand between my legs increased. I gasped.
“Yours,” I agreed, unable to form complex thoughts.
He hummed, pressing and rolling my clit with his fingers. “My wife.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. My jaw. My neck. “My wife who’s so pretty when she’s desperate. Aren’t you?”
“Rude,” I panted. My hands curled into the fine white fabric of his shirt. My hips rocked, needing more. It was rude, but he was right. I was desperate.
It was as if his attention had opened the floodgates, and now I could see just how much I’d denied myself in my previous relationships.
I’d kept score, and the score had always been lopsided.
My partner got ten orgasms for every one that I allowed myself.
I’d worry if it took me too long to reach my peak, thinking he was bored.
I’d get on my knees and suck him off, but it was out of duty rather than desire.
Trying to make up for the fact that my vagina didn’t work right.
This was different.
Gideon looked at me with a mix of lust and reverence. He stroked my body until I whimpered and shook above him. As he exhaled, eyes hungry as they watched me, I finally believed that this was enough for him. That I was enough for him.
It was a feeling of safety that I’d never experienced before. Here, in this room, with this man, I was enough. I didn’t have to give him anything. I didn’t have to work to make up for my body. I could just be.
The feeling overwhelmed me, and on its heels was an orgasm so intense it stole my breath.
Gideon urged me on, his hands on my body, his lips on my shoulder, my clavicle, my neck.
He murmured sweet words to me. “Beautiful,” he rasped.
“So beautiful, baby. Could watch you do this every day for the rest of my life.”
He didn’t mean it, of course. This arranged marriage was still on shaky ground. But it felt so good to hear him say those words, to bask in the feeling of being enough.
My orgasm ebbed, and I rolled my forehead against his shoulder.
He smelled divine. Like sweat and spice and man.
I wanted to lick him. My fingers clenched and released over his biceps, body still rocking gently against his.
Gideon’s hands swept over my thighs, stroking my ass and then up on either side of my spine. I loved the way he touched me.
“I want to make you feel good,” I admitted in a whisper.
Gideon turned his head to brush his lips against my temple. “What part of you thinks I don’t already feel good, Sadie?”
I huffed, leaning my cheek against his shoulder. Settling on top of him, straddled over his lap, I felt one specific part of him that seemed to be experiencing some hardship. I rocked against him, and fireflies of desire flitted through me once more.